Home
by isis whit
Summary: The VCTF is history. Bailey turns to the one person he trusts... and loves.


Disclaimer: Sam and Bailey are not mine, unfortunately, neither is "Profiler" and any other character that appears in this story. I've lost track of who they belong to. I don't have any money, so don't waste your time suing me. 

Rating: G 

Author's Note: There are some little spoilers for third and fourth season. I really can't pick every episode.   


'Home' 

by isis_whit 

"Bailey?" 

When she had opened the door, she didn't trust her eyes. He was leaning against the door frame, with sunglasses and a tired smile on. She looked at him. He had lost weight, and a look into his face told her that it must have been some time since he had shaved. She hadn't seen him for almost a year. 

After she had left the VCTF, she had called him and let him know about their new address. He had called her a few times, but she had noticed that he always sounded distant. It was as if they suddenly didn't have anything to tell each other. And after a few weeks, he had stopped calling at all. She had been very disappointed and was clueless. She wanted to call him back but she was afraid, so she decided to write him a letter. She never got an answer. Was he upset with her because she had left? Now he was standing at her door and looked terrible. 

"Won't you let me in?" He slipped down the sunglasses, and Sam could see the dark circles under his eyes. 

She looked over his shoulder and saw his white GMC parking on the street. A trip from Atlanta down to Hilton Head would take over five hours. What made him leave at 5 a.m. and drive down here, she wondered. "Sure, come on in." She stepped aside and let him in. She went ahead and led guided him along to the den. 

"Why don't you sit down. Can I offer you something?" 

"No, thanks." The sat both down on the couch, unsure what to say. 

"So, what brings you down here?" she asked in an attempt to get a conversation started. 

His elbows were resting on his knees as he sighed and looked at her with a resigned smile. "Yesterday, I had to clear out my desk," he said. 

"What?" 

"Then you haven't heard about it?" 

"About what? What do you mean?" 

"They have shut down the VCTF, it's toast, over." 

She was shocked. "God, Bail, what happened?" 

"Budget cuts, at least that's what they say. My guess is, they wanted to get rid of a unit that handled things its own way. But that doesn't play a role anymore." 

"Oh Bail, I had no idea." She couldn't think of something better to say. No surprise he looked drawn. He had always been so dedicated, and even if he didn't really care about his career, the Bureau had finally seemed to appreciate his work by making him SAC of the VCTF. And now they had taken away his lifework. "I'm really sorry to hear that." 

"It's okay, Sam. I'm just glad that almost everyone in the unit got a new job." 

"What about you?" she asked with concern in her voice. 

He got up, and started walking to the window. He stared outside. The sea was only about 100 yards away. Watching the pounding waves of the gray autumn sea, he tried to get his thoughts straight. 

"I don't know what to do, Sam," he said and his head dropped on his chest. 

Sam got up and walked behind him. "You will figure it out." 

"Oh, Sam, I don't even know why I came here and bother you with my crap. I'm sorry, I guess I'm too tired to make any sense." He had always hated politics, and the fight for his team had drained him. In a way, he was glad it was over. 

She wanted to hug him and comfort him but she felt he needed some distance, so she just asked if he wanted some coffee. "I think you could use one." 

"That bad, huh?" 

"Well, you look like you've had some very long nights lately," she said, trying to lighten the mood. 

"Yeah, well, no comment," he said with an embarrassed grin. 

When she came back, the door to the patio was slightly ajar, and she saw him leaning on the railing, his shirt flapping in the gusty wind. She handed him one of the coffee mugs and leaned right next to him. 

He took a sip and smiled when he noticed that she obviously remembered how he drank his coffee. "How's Chlo?" 

"She's great. She had a hard time after all what had happened, but that's no surprise I guess. I think she's really doing great now." 

"I'm very glad to hear that. Where is she by the way?" 

"Oh, she's up at Richmond at the farm." 

"Oh." He glanced away. Again, he seemed to be running out of words. She felt his tension but she didn't understand it. 

"What do you think about lunch?" This time, she was changing subject. 

"You sure you want to get seen on the streets with me?" 

"Bailey!" she said with feigned outrage. 

They got into his car, and Sam guided him the short way down to the harbor. 'The Kingfisher' was a small restaurant overlooking the yacht harbor. They sat on a secluded table on one of the French windows. They ordered grilled jumbo shrimps with citrus sauce and a fresh Chardonnay. While they were waiting for the food, Bailey stared at his glass and turned it absent-mindedly with his fingers. He jumped a little, when Sam reached out and put her hand on his. 

"Maybe you try to get your thoughts off the VCTF for now. Just try to relax a bit, okay?" 

He took her fingers in his hand and stroked them slightly. "My life is a mess. I've sacrificed my family for my career, and now look what's left. I've blown everything." 

"Bailey, that's not true. You can be proud of your life." 

"Don't," he interrupted her, pulling his hand away. "Don't tell me that, I'm sick of people telling me that." He stared outside, his eyes dark. 

He seemed so angry with himself, she was at a complete loss. She wanted to tell him anything to make it better, but just when she was to start, the waiter served their food. They started to eat in silence. 

He took a deep breath. "Looks like my temper got the better of me. I'm sorry, Sam, that was stupid." He raised his head shyly and met her eyes. 

"Come on now, stop being so hard on yourself, okay?" she said and smiled at him warmly. "And now let's eat. Would be a shame to let those superb shrimps go bad." 

He couldn't help but laugh. Sam was very relieved to see him lighten up a bit. He raised his glass. "Thank you, Sam." 

"What for? For kicking your butt?" she giggled. 

"Yeah, I guess I needed it. No, I mean you always seem to get things in the right perspective." 

"You're welcome, Bailey." 

Suddenly, everything seemed to be as it always has been. Their conversation got into a flow. He told her about what everybody did. Rachel was back at Quantico. Grace was now teaching Forensic Pathology at Emory and she had gotten back together with her husband. George was recruited from the FBI's Washington Field Office Infrastructure Protection and Computer Intrusion Squad, or WFO IPCIS. 

"Guess what John's doing. You won't believe this." 

"What, is he back with the Atlanta PD?" 

"Nope, I think he has enough of that for a while. He's gonna join the ATF, can you believe this?" 

They laughed, having in mind the difficult relation John had with this government agency. "Did you have something to do with it?" 

He grinned sheepishly. "Nah, not really. John's a good man, everyone could use one of his sort. I don't see why I shouldn't tell that Director Watkins. But I tell you something: I hate playing golf." 

"Oh Bail, you will never change." 

He looked shocked. "You think I should?" 

"No, not really. I think you're just right the way you are." She wanted to bite off her tongue as soon as she had said it. 

He cleared his throat and looked away a bit embarrassed. The finished their lunch in a quieter mood. He insisted on paying the check, and after a little argument, she gave in. "Care for a little walk on the beach?" 

"Yeah, sure." 

They had walked for a while, wind and sun in their faces. Sam was thinking about the best way to ask what had been on her mind since the second she had opened the door. She figured that there was probably not anything like a 'good' way, so she decided just to go straightforward. "So, did you get my letter?" she asked nervously. Maybe that was not the right time to touch that subject but she had to know. Secretly, she was hoping that the letter had somehow never reached him. She glanced at his face and saw him biting his lips. 

Of course he got her letter. Every single word in her clear handwriting on the white stationary was engraved in his memory as if he had read it yesterday. In it, she had apologized again for leaving. And she said she was hoping that they could still be friends. He wanted to tell her that there is nothing she had to apologize for. Her friendship was very important to him but the truth was, he only wanted to tell her that he loved her. He had tried over and over again, but every time he had read his words, it had felt silly and just wrong to him. He knew he was a coward, but he just couldn't tell her the truth about his feelings. 

"Bail?" 

"I'm sorry, Sam." He sighed. "I got your letter. I wanted to write you back, or at least call, but," his voice trailed off. "Honestly, I wasn't sure if you would even let me in today. I don't know what's got into me, I really am sorry," he said, his fingers running through his hair. 

"Sorry I brought it up, I really didn't want to make you feel guilty about it, I just wanted to know." She was glad that they her house was already in sight. "Oh, we're there." 

"We're where?" 

"My house." 

"Oh. My car?" 

"You don't want to drive back to Atlanta today, do you?" she asked, hoping he would stay. 

"I don't?" 

When they reached the stairs that lead up to her house, she touched his arm slightly and made him stop. "Tell me something. When was the last time you've slept?" 

He gave her a short smile, then glanced over her shoulder to the ocean. "Thursday?" he mumbled. 

"Oh my, I can't let you drive. I'm surprised that you made it down here at all. That was a bit thoughtless, don't you think?" 

He turned and wanted to give her a sarcastic remark when he saw the real concern in her eyes. He sighed, "yeah I better get a hotel room." 

"What? You know, I have that house, and I have a couch in the living room. You're welcome here, Bailey." 

"Thanks Sam," he smiled. "But you know, I don't even have a toothbrush with me." 

She giggled. "Okay, tell you what. I have to get some groceries anyway. If you don't mind you can wait. It won't take long." 

After she had left, he wandered through the den and discovered many familiar pictures. The old faded photograph of her mother, the one she made of her dad when she was still a kid, a black and white one with Ton holding Chloe when she was still a baby. He was surprised to find one of himself too, he didn't even remember when it was taken. It looked like from the last Christmas party at Sam's. He smiled, still wondering what made her put it into a frame. On the coffee table, there was a folder with a set of wonderful black-and-white photographs. He recognized the lighthouse on one of them. She obviously had gotten back into photography since she had moved up here. He picked up the folder and sat down on the couch. 

Sam found him lying on the couch on his side, and some of the photos had slid down to the floor. She smiled when she thought that she had slammed the door shut and he didn't even wake up. Unconscious, she thought. She picked up the images and wrested the folder he was hugging to him from his arms. He didn't even stir. She went to the kitchen to put the groceries away and returned to the den. She covered him with a blanket and couldn't resist to softly run her fingers through his hair. She sat down in the overstuffed chair opposite to him and just watched him. Finally the tension seemed to have left his body. 

She was getting lost in the sight of him. Why did he really come to her, she still wondered. Her thoughts drifted back to all those moments she had felt so close to him. He had always been so protective, but it was more than that. His soft groaning interrupted her thoughts. He was talking in his sleep but she couldn't figure what he was mumbling. She could swear she had heard him say her name. He was tossing and turning, the blanket sliding down. 

She got up and sat down next to him. Tenderly, she started rubbing his back. It seemed that he calmed down from her touch immediately. Touching him felt so good, she didn't want to stop again. She closed his eyes and concentrated on his smell and the feeling of his body under her hands. She listened to his breath and it was as if she could feel his heartbeat. Mechanically her hand continued wandering over his back in circles. Even if she would have tried to stop, she was sure she couldn't. 

Dusk had already darkened the room when she felt a gaze on her. Her hand was resting on his arm. She looked at him and saw him blinking away the sleep. 

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said softly. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to..." He cleared his throat. 

"It's okay. I'm glad you finally got some rest." 

He sat up, wiping his face. Sleeping in his cloths had made him feel sweaty and creased. He leaned back against the couch and groaned. He jumped unnoticeable when he felt Sam leaning back against his chest. He put an arm around her and caressed her arms. The tickling sensation of her hair on his neck drove him crazy. His heart was beating so loud that he was afraid she could hear it. He leaned back his head. He didn't want her to notice how labored his breathing had become. She snuggled up to him even closer. He didn't want to push her away but that was just so much he could take. 

"Uh, Sam," he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "You don't have by accident anything to drink?" 

She pulled away a bit and turned to look at him. "Scotch?" she asked, and even if it was too dark to see it, he was sure she was frowning. 

He laughed. "Some water would be nice, actually." 

"Okay, I think I can help with that," she said, and pushed herself up from the couch. He tried to get himself together again and followed her. 

"Hey." 

She jumped and turned abruptly. "Bailey, I'm not used to people sneaking around in my house!" 

"Uh sorry, I didn't want to scare you. But I wasn't sneaking," he said sheepishly. 

"Hungry?" 

"Not really." He looked at her intensely. The small overhead light made her hair shimmer, and he noticed that her face never had looked so fresh and young while she was still with the VCTF. The life here seemed to become her. 

"Don't get mw wrong, I don't want to mother you, but where do you think not eating or sleeping will get you?" 

"Did I miss something? Didn't I just sleep on your couch?" 

"I mean sleep at night, eight hours, remember?" 

"Vaguely. Must have been ages since I've had that." He wanted to make a joke but instead it sounded just sad and tired. 

She walked over to him, and put a hand on his cheek. "I think you need a vacation, Malone. I'm sure you haven't had one in years. Why don't you just stay here for a few days? The air will help you clear your head. I speak from experience here." 

"I don't know, Sam. I don't want to intrude on your new life. I don't think that's fair. And Chloe will be back soon too." 

"Don't worry about Chlo. She will be thrilled to see you, trust me. And for the other, you're a friend, and nothing I do can ever repay what you did for me all those years." 

"You mean bringing Jack into your life?" 

"Bailey, please. I wish you would stop blaming yourself for Jack. It wasn't your fault, We can't control other people's lifes." 

"Déjà vu." 

"What?" 

"Didn't we have the same conversation some time ago?" 

She chuckled. "Yeah, I remember. So, still not hungry?" 

"Hm, well, what do you have?" 

"What about some Chef Salad?" 

"You don't have anything unhealthy here, have you," he said with knitted brows. 

"No way, cowboy. Ranch or Italian dressing?" she asked and when she saw his grin she continued, "yeah, stupid question, right. Okay, I go for the same." She took two boxes wit the salad and the dressing from the fridge. 

With every single move of her, his desire grew stronger. He had to tear himself away from her sight. "I think I better freshen up a bit before we eat." 

"Yeah sure. Bathroom is upstairs first door on the right side," she shouted after him. 

He took off his shirt and let cold water run over his face and neck. It felt good, and for now, it saved him from doing something really stupid. He was so embarrassed, he wanted to lock the door and never get out again. He had no idea how he could face Sam with his feelings taking over, but there was no way out of this now. He slipped on his shirt, it felt damp from his own sweat. He wished he had taken some fresh cloths with him. 

Back in the den, Sam had already arranged everything on the dining table, two plates with the salad, some Italian bread, a bottle of wine, and two creamy white candles. Soft, flattering music was playing, Wynton Marsalis he guessed. 

During dinner he asked her about what she did the past year, and he finally relaxed a bit. She seemed to radiate a smile that came from deep inside of her, even if her lips didn't smile. She was so funny when she was telling all those little anecdotes. The CD repeated for the third time when Bailey tried to stifle a yawn. 

"What? Already bored?" she teased. 

"I could listen to you forever," he replied with a smile. 

"It's pretty late. Oh, Bail? One thing." 

"Yeah, what?" 

"The letter. It's never too late for a reply, you know," she said. She got up, took the plates, and left for the kitchen. 

She brought a fresh white sheet and a pillow down and they put it over the couch together. He teased her by pulling so hard that the sheet slid from her hand more than once. 

"Bailey! You're a mess!" she wrinkled her nose and burst into laugh. She hugged him and kissed him slightly on the cheek. "It tickles. Night Bail," she said before she walked upstairs. 

He waited until he heard the closing of a door then he went upstairs. He took a very long shower and for the first time today he felt refreshed. He stood there with nothing but a towel around his waist. The last thing he wanted to do is get back into his sweaty cloths. He said a quick prayer that he didn't run into Sam, before he sneaked through the hall and downstairs. He slipped under the blanket and switched the lights off. 

As tired as he was, he couldn't sleep. He was thinking about what she had said. He had been afraid that he had lost her friendship but he was wrong. He hadn't been honest about his feelings to her. It was good to have a friend back since he had not too many left in his life. He felt like a liar but he didn't want to lose her. After another hour he came to the conclusion that his bad conscience wouldn't let him rest tonight. He got up, put his suit pants on, and searched for some paper. He sat down on the dinner table and started writing. 

"My beloved Sam, 

I'm very sorry but I haven't been honest with you. I came here hoping to find a friend and I'm very glad that I've found one. Since you've left I seem to have lost my direction. It know that must sound strange to you. While you were in Jack's hands, I was so scared. I would have given everything to bring you back. The thought of losing you was almost more than I could bear. Sam, after all the time we've known each other, I've learned one thing. I love you. I know that you don't love me the same way, you love me as a friend and that's okay. I can accept that but I wanted to stop lying to you. Now you might understand why I haven't written to you before. I only hope that this confession won't destroy our friendship. I know I'm a coward. Forgive me. 

Love. Bailey." 

Carefully he folded the letter. He put it right on the first step. That way she wouldn't overlook it. He couldn't face her after she read that. Soberly, he put on the rest of his cloths. He swore inwardly thinking about his car that was parked about an hour's walk away. He stepped outside, the chilly wind made him shiver. Burying his hands in his pocket, he got down to the beach and started walking towards the harbor. He wasn't sure if he had just done the bravest or the most stupid thing he had ever done in his life. 

Sam woke up when she heard a sound. Although Jack was dead and gone, her senses still were overly alert, even in her sleep. She got up and tiptoed through the dark house. Even with the light switched out she saw that the couch deserted from the top of the stairs. She rushed downstairs and almost slipped on the piece of paper lying on the lowermost step. She bent down and unfolded Bailey's letter. 

In the kitchen she switched the light on and read. When finished, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then she read it again. He loved her, and now he was running away. "Oh Bailey," she sighed. Her head was spinning. That wasn't just her imagination, she could read the words clearly. He had to find him. She slipped on some sneakers and threw a coat over her pajamas. Thank god it was after midnight, she thought. She got into her car and as fast as she could she drove down to the harbor. 

His car was still standing where they had left it this afternoon. She parked on the other side of the road and waited. She had no idea what to tell him, she could hardly think straight. It was like a dream. She only knew she had to talk to him. She closed his eyes. Now she understood some of the pain he must have felt when she had left. She had seen the hurt in his eyes when she had walked out of her office but she hadn't see the love in them. How blind she was. 

She saw a shape appear down from the quay. She got out of the car, not caring that she only had pajamas under her coat. He didn't see or hear her come while he was trying to fiddle the key into the lock with clammy fingers. 

"Bailey!" 

"Sam." He sighed deeply. 

She put a hand on his shoulder. He shivered. "Please don't leave me, Bailey," she whispered. 

"I'm sorry, Sam. I know I've screwed up everything. I don't think we can just forget about it?" 

"Look at me, please." She stepped at his side and cupped his cheek with her soft warm hand. "Please, stay with me, Bail," she begged. 

He faced her, their glances locking. She could see the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. She put a hand on the back of his head and pulled his face down to her. Before their lips met, she whispered, "I love you Bailey." 

**THE END**

  



End file.
